


Starlight, star bright

by ardvari



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardvari/pseuds/ardvari
Summary: Maybe there was something to be said about a man who picked out a house based on the slope of its roof, she thought, smiling to herself as she unlocked the front door, hung up her purse along with her jacket and stretched her back.





	Starlight, star bright

**Starlight, star bright**

Maybe there was something to be said about a man who picked out a house based on the slope of its roof, she thought, smiling to herself as she unlocked the front door, hung up her purse along with her jacket and stretched her back. 

There wasn’t a single light on inside and she didn’t bother turning one on. Navigating around the furniture in the dark, along the dark hallway and into the bedroom, she pulled off her uniform piece by piece, laying it out on a chair like the pieces of a dismantled reactor. Finding a pair of sweat pants and a sweater that had once belonged to him and now belonged to _them_ , she pulled them on. Sighing contently she fished a fleece jacket off the back of a chair and pushed open the glass door leading to the back porch. 

She’d find him in the exact same position she always found him in on cloudless nights. Hunched over his telescope, exploring the little piece of the universe visible to them, as if a part of him still longed to be out there, even after all the terrors they’d encountered. 

Quietly climbing up the ladder, she stepped onto the wooden platform. This one was bigger than the one he’d had in Colorado. There was enough room here even for a trunk full of blankets and a cooler full of beer. Enough room for his chair and his telescope, the centerpiece of their combined longing to maybe, just maybe step through that ‘gate one more time. 

“Hey,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself against the night chill creeping through the layers of her clothing. 

“Hey,” he replied, both hands on the telescope, thumb and forefinger securing the bolt that would hold whatever he’d discovered up in the sky in place. 

She’d brought up the topic of a telescope that could be set electronically only once. She’d elaborated on how they could hook up her laptop and tell it where to point the telescope. She still remembered the blank look on his face when he’d asked her where the fun in _that_ would be. Since then she’d watched him countless times as he held his breath, turning this screw or that, until whatever he was looking at was right smack in the middle of his lens. Maybe a part of her had even started to understand why he liked doing some things the hard way. 

“What’d you find?” she asked, grabbing a beer out of the cooler before she came to stand behind him. 

“Pleiades,” he replied, knowing that would be enough information for her brain to supply her with a sheer endless chain of information. That was, at least, the way he figured her brain worked. Input, output. 

“Huh,” she said, taking a sip of her beer. 

Even without the telescope she could make out the star cluster, along with the other familiar constellations. Sometimes, while he was gazing at the stars through his telescope, she laid down on the platform behind him, staring up at the inky sky, enjoying the silence and the familiarity of being up here, with him. His territory, her expertise. 

Though she’d studied stars, dedicated her career to astrophysics, she’d always marveled at the passion with which he could stare up at them for hours on end. That kind of passion she’d lacked for a long time, if she was honest with herself. She’d seen numbers and equations and distances, laws of physics and theories. It had been years since she’d looked, really _looked_ at the night sky to simply marvel at the beauty of the stars. He had, among other things, given her the ability to look up without thinking, to leap up because she knew he’d never let her fall. 

“C’mere,” he said, rolling his chair back carefully, taking her hand and shaking her out of her reverie. 

She settled on his lap; let him adjust the telescope, keeping her hands to herself simply because she loved watching him do this one thing he really, really loved. This thing he’d been so incredibly willing to share with her. 

“Now look.”

She did, gasping at the brightness of the seven main stars in the open cluster, backlit by even more pinpricks of light. Turning around, she smiled at him. 

“Gorgeous,” she said, her voice soft. 

His eyes never left hers as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Gorgeous indeed.”


End file.
